


Demon Dorm

by Laura_Laplace



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angel/Demon Sex, Demon Sex, Demons, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:08:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29832318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_Laplace/pseuds/Laura_Laplace
Summary: A congregation of demons encounter a lost angel. Too bad for her they're all succubi.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	Demon Dorm

Within the lands of the Domain are many a place of power, clashing places in which the confluences of many different magics ground against one another like arcane tectonic plates. In many of these locales these natural magics proved of great use to the peoples that chose to live there, resources which could be tapped, stoked, co-existed with. Others were more dangerous, places one could go to mine from the living earth the things one needed, but where no being could comfortably live.

In a few, plant life would never grow again.

Only one remained completely out of the public eye, somewhat oddly considering that it was the most harmonious of them all. A chamber of stone and wood set into the side of a mountain, open to one side through gaps in fine marble columns, those with a sense for magic might see that the different sorts of arcana present there followed unnatural, strictly defined boundaries, mingling at the edges but never truly mixing. Neatly divided into triangular wedges that grew narrower the closer they got to the center of the room, from above it would have looked like a Trivial Pursuit piece, completed and of a deeply weird makeup. 

This, high above the rest of the Domain and in a place that very few could reach, was the chamber of the demons.

Of course, designations like demon and angel were only a convenient shorthand, in fact describing a great many entities that had not ever dwelt in a heaven or hell; they were names of metaphysics, not specificity. Planes across the multiverse tended to order themselves, by some strange gravity of the worlds, into Upper and Lower orders, homes of the light and dark entities that arose within them. The fact, regardless of what one wished to call them all, was that such creatures required… care to fit into any given reality without clashing in harmful ways. 

Many a plane had fallen when two entities of significant cosmic size had merely brushed up against one another. There were things out there that cracked worlds with a simple step…

The demons of the Domain, under the direction of its founder Lady Tyriah, had approached cohabitation deliberately and carefully, knowing full well that their mutually exclusive auras represented a true instability to their new world. The greatest among them had created this isolated place as a neutral ground, where disputes could be settled and issues of their inherent magic dealt with. It thrummed with the constant flow of their energies. 

Mostly they just called it the Demon Dorm, though.

‘Y’all ever fucked an angel before?’ 

Currently, the chamber atop the mountain was occupied by a cadre of horned women, wings stretched and tails curling in idle, relaxed patterns. The combined arcane energies within that room were a world-ending threat, but they remained carefully demarcated and separated, washing constantly around the edges of what was, in fact, little more than a loosely affiliated hangout session.

‘I’m like ninety percent sure that angels don’t even have the parts to get fucked,’ Tyriah, Indigo Lady and de facto ruler of this combined land, presently lounging upside-down on a lushly padded chair, regarded her interlocutor with vague interest.

Gremory, being of chaos and seducer of women, puffed out her cheeks in defiance. She wore little, beyond a mesh body stocking, a pair of panties, and two black, diamond shaped nipple covers; everything about her was obvious, a book laid open on a page entitled “listen, what you gotta know about me is…” 

‘I’m telling you, they do,’ she grinned a particularly nasty grin, full of fangs and dirty in a way that seemed to expect a blush in response. Of course, she did not get it, not from a room filled with the most hellacious women currently residing in the world, but Gremory hardly seemed to notice. 

‘Okay, I’ll bite.’ From across the room the fallen angel and current demon detective Armoniel Watson sat up straighter, regarding Gremory flatly. ‘It sure does seem like you’re speaking from experience.’

‘She definitely needed prompting to show off, totally,’ Eisheth Zenunim, true succubus, rolled her eyes. ‘Grem would absolutely have waited patiently until she got an opening.’

‘Grem’s not even gonna ask a second time,’ the demoness herself cocked her head to one side, a challenging glare in her eyes. She raised her middle finger, turning it into the beginnings of a magic gesture: ‘Lailah! Come!’

What happened next was near instantaneous, but breathtakingly complex from an arcanological standpoint. Right in the middle of the intersecting demonic leylines, a new power began to emerge, something antithetical to the mana that had been stored there. The world shuddered, bright light spilling from the empty air in the center of the chamber, a being from the Upper Stratum shoving its way into physical existence amid the powers of the Lower. 

It took a lot of very quick, very hard adjustments from everyone present to correct the situation such that the chamber itself did not disintegrate beneath the new stresses. Gremory did not seem bothered. 

‘You can’t just do that!’ Tyriah snapped, scrambling upright and only eventually turning her attention away from Gremory toward the interloper. Her mouth fell open. ‘How did…?’

Angels came in many shapes, but not a one of them could avoid detection by demons. Upper beings were plainly antithetical to the Lower ones, literally made of opposing elements, their very presence in the same space often running the risk of cataclysmic consequences. Care was needed, and in the face of that knowledge the collar around the newly summoned angel’s neck put one in mind of a rickety bridge, erected over a sheer chasm. 

Lailah was a tall being- angels were always tall, they chose their avatars specifically to tower over others- but far more inoffensive to look at than some of the other angels that Tyriah had met. Her shape was basically human, for one; two legs and four arms, the latter of which seemed a little like putting on airs, but that was okay. Her skin was a deep brown, her hair platinum blonde and tied up in a ponytail that flowed through the center of her halo, achieving a sort of heavenly weightlessness once it did so. Its tailing end floated out behind her, drifting on an unseen, celestial current. 

Atypically when compared to the angels that the demonesses were familiar with, this one wore very little. Her white robe was barely more than a complicated ribbon, a strip of cloth covering the nipples of her bountiful brown breasts, but almost nothing else. It trailed off into a free floating loincloth, sparkling with gold sunbursts and leaving those watching in no doubt at all of the fact that this angel was going commando. 

Her thick thighs were encased in sheer black lace, leading down to a pair of severe heels that were locked to her feet. Her forearms, all four of them, wore white, disconnected sleeves, the cuffs thick enough to hold a restraint, and the collar around her neck was golden, its leash a pure white. The regalia of a slave. 

She squeaked upon appearing, the sound ringing through the sudden silence in the Demon Dorm, her arms pairing up and racing to cover her chest and between her legs. She was too tall to do so effectively, however, and her outfit too small. Gremory snickered, bouncing over to her. 

‘Everyone, this is Lailah.’ She said, poisonous smugness infecting her smile. ‘Lailah, these are my… hmm, allies, I guess. Not friends. Uh… we’re stuck in the same reality together and we’re all immortal, leave it at that.’

‘Miss Gremory! I don’t feel at all comfortable being summoned in front of all these-’ The angel started talking, her voice lyrical and cultured, but Tyriah leapt to her feet, the mere clack of her hooves on the floor enough to demand silence once more. Her power flared around her, a purple light that was ravenous, intelligent, wrathful, an extension of her and projection of her true form from… somewhere else. 

It was easy to see, looking at her now, that she was of the world that formed the basis of the Domain, and that the Indigo Lady was one of the oldest, most powerful entities within it. 

‘You actually captured an angel and brought her here?’ Tyriah’s eyes flashed, the lenses of her glasses going almost opaque in the purple glow. ‘You brought an Upper creature here? To this place?!’

‘Tyr? Tyr, wait,’ Eisheth Zenunim, not quite believing what she was doing, put herself between the demonic supernova brewing in front of them, and the angel cowering behind. Her tails stood on end, their tips practically vibrating with nervous energy, but she held her ground, her habitual grin far more taut than it had been in a long time. 

‘What?’ The glamor of Tyriah’s everyday form was beginning to slip, her teeth now dagger points that clenched together when she spoke. The point of her tail was sharp enough to cut the air, sizzling with arcane violence as she scythed it through the air. 

‘It’s Gremory, I know, but this time she maybe has things under control?’ Eisheth held her hands out in supplication, not daring to even turn her head to check that she was right. ‘That collar… she might be onto something here, and we won’t know what if you just burn it down without thinking.’

‘I don’t allow Upper things into my Domain under the best of circumstances, Zenunim, and these are not that,’ Tyriah growled. ‘They absented themselves from helping when they were needed, and now they are unwelcome here. Gremory knows that.’

‘Oh, so now it’s your Domain,’ Gremory snapped, having remembered to bring her rhetoric today, but apparently not her sense of self preservation. ‘Where’s all that high minded talk about it being everyone’s-’

‘I get that you’re angry. I get it, we’re demons. She’s an angel. No brainer. But you’re better than this, and you know it. Let me check her first.’

‘I’m not a total idiot, you know,’ Gremory sniffed. ‘I can control my toys.’

‘We have a deep well of evidence against both of those statements,’ Tyriah spoke without ever moving her flaming gaze from Eisheth. The next time the succubus blinked, Tyriah was standing directly in front of her, having snapped across the space in the span of a moment. Her eyes were orbs of a deep and troubling violet, no longer concerning themselves with matters of appearance like pupils, or sclera. 

Or anything at all, really, beyond the raw, elemental color that she embodied. 

‘Show me, then, that this creature should be accepted here,’ the Indigo Lady said. ‘Soul magic is your domain, Eisheth. Show me.’

For Tyriah, the existence of an Upper creature here was more than just a personal slight; the Domain functioned by a delicate balance of spiritual forces that, strictly speaking, should never have coexisted to begin with. Life here, particularly for her as the Domain’s main patron, involved countless adjustments that could be thrown into chaos by the presence of such demonic antimatter as an angel. 

They had been given a chance to help form the foundations of this place, and as a result the Upper world here was sealed shut to they Below. The angels and gods had chosen isolation; they were no longer welcome here. 

But then, that made Lailah’s presence here a rare treat, the sort of thing Eisheth would not let slip through her fingers lightly. Not the sort of thing she wanted to see disintegrated before she’d gotten a chance to… take a look. 

Still though, Eisheth didn’t turn around until Tyriah made some moves to stand down. Eventually, when it became clear that she wasn’t going to get to sweep this heavenly problem under the rug without instigating a fight, Tyriah shrugged, let her magic recede to the backstages of reality where it usually lurked. She went back to her seat and Eisheth, feeling very much like a child standing up to an adult, nodded with the satisfaction of small victories. 

‘Now you’re gonna want to play along with me here,’ she said, once she had gotten close to the angel unmolested. ‘Because I don’t think you can take what my purple friend can dish out right now. So be a good girl…’

Eisheth could feel Tyriah’s gaze on her back, a sort of magic pressure that could very easily heat to literally burning intensity. She approached the angel as though the two of them were standing with a bomb between them, conscious at every step that the truly ancient demon behind them had only barely been persuaded. Like a lot of the things that had been attached to the newcomer, her leash floated in accordance with some unseen force, drifting through the air like a strand of errant seaweed. 

Carefully, with fingers that shook just a little, Eisheth reached out and took hold of the golden orb that flitted, somehow magnetically, from the tip of the leash.

Lailah’s painted white lips parted, a shuddering exhalation blowing from between them. 

It is possible, under specific, hard to reproduce conditions, to create a cloud indoors. All that’s needed is the correct technology and know-how, and such things can be accomplished, at least for a little while. If the conditions are naturally impossible, then they can be made; in the same way, a soul tether like the one ringing Lailah’s neck could make it so the demonic and the angelic could, if only briefly, touch. 

The magic poured into that golden orb and channeled down the leash existed to disarm the most violent of reactions between Upper and Lower matter, to submit one to the will of the other and cancel out the domain of divine authority in which the angels operated. To operate it made the soul touch its bearer, commingling within the neutral territory the leash represented. 

The collar around Lailah’s neck shone, active magic both diabolic and divine working as one, glittering along its intricate curvature. The angel shifted on her knees, hips moving, thighs tensing; the buds of her nipples pressed outward against the thin fabric of her gown. The tips of her ears flicked, her halo a star field of tentative, lustful lights. 

Eisheth Zenunim, the true succubus known Below as the Lady of Whoredom, smiled. Pointed teeth in white, tessellating rows peered out, made to give the most truly demonic love bites one could possibly give. Something in her aspect shifted, pieces of an unseen puzzle clicking into place to reveal the picture that had always been there; a desirous creature, the every slope and angle of her form turning toward unerring sexuality. 

Even a demon as ancient and powerful as Tyriah found herself caught in her now. Staring. 

Blushing.

‘This is good work, Gremory,’ her voice layered with wanting harmonics, a flowery lilt that none could deny, Eisheth turned her crimson gaze momentarily to the other demon, before returning it to Lailah. ‘The angel really has submitted. This isn’t the type of collar that would accept false acquiescence.’

‘And where, pray, would one find a prostration collar in the Domain, let alone an angel willing to wear it?’ Tyriah had settled down now, reclining back in her chair content to watch, though her words were still clipped and miffed. Grinning, Eisheth pulled the leash tight, dragging Lailah up with it.

‘Let me find out,’ she said. Stepping forward, she moved to straddle the angel, limber and smooth thighs up around Lailah’s waist. Leash in one hand, the succubus reached out and wrapped long-nailed fingers around the upper ring of her halo. It sparked, just momentarily, against her skin, and even Tyriah gasped at Eisheth’s daring, perhaps expecting the flesh to melt from her bones at the merest touch. 

The prostration collar kept them both safe, however, and through the soul bond therein, both temporary mistress and divine slave felt themselves… connect. There was nothing that could be denied the holder of one of those leashes, not even the contents of the bearer’s mind.

Her handhold on Lailah’s halo keeping her gaze steady, Eisheth looked down into the sweetly aquamarine eyes the divine woman possessed, seeing in them everything she needed to see…  
***

When realities die, the heavens are the last to go. But they do go, in the end.

In the Upper realm that Lailah had come from, a roiling sea of clouds had lapped at the shores of the Islands of the Saved since the beginning of time, a pure white constant of her world that only occasionally shaded to darker hues. Storms there were rare, but when they did happen, the rain ascended, welling up in the whorls and divots of the cloudseas before rising into the bared blue skies. 

It had a rich, clean taste, like the finest wine; though they had no need of drink, they would collect it anyway.

The cloudseas had always been there, and in Lailah’s mind always would, but on the day the Islands fell their ceaseless churning stilled, whatever great celestial clockwork that caused their tides winding down entirely. For hours they lay inert, like strange sculptures molded in white concrete toward obscure purposes. It was… eerie, the sky itself one great corpse, bereft of life; more than enough of a reason for the majority of the population of Lailah’s island to draw inward, away from the shore. Away from the still blanching skin of their heaven.

So she was alone on the damp beach sand when the clouds began to peel apart.

Whorls of reality itself curled away from the world, some of them miles across, revealing the raw, protoplasmic matter that undergirded the real. Patterns of sickening depth and complexity spilled out from beneath the flesh of normalcy, great two-dimensional works of inexplicable art ripping away across the sky in crazy arcs. It all happened with an awful, total silence; when a universe broke down, it seemed wrong for there not to be at least a few death rattles.

But the wallpaper of reality was being stripped away now, and seeing beneath it for the first time brought the realization that the walls had always been alive, always been merely held back. A set of jaws trillions of lightyears wide, held in place by a layer of normality only a nanometer thick.

After all these years, set to close at last. 

She ran, of course, because when the underpinnings of your whole world begins to decay around you, you will want to flee that, but there was equally nowhere else to go. Lailah’s reality collapsed around her, taking with it the vast majority of the people that lived there. But…

But…

In every plane there are places where the barriers between it and not-it had worn thin, erosions in the world that would fade away first when the place entire began to die. If one were particularly lucky, and their footsteps during the apocalypse carried them over one of these weakened points, one might find themselves not fading away with the rest of their home, but falling…   
***

It works like this.

Alternate realities are often referred to as “planes,” which brings to mind a certain wideness; one pictures horizons, open spaces. This makes sense from the perspective of individuals living inside those realities, because by comparison they are small and worlds are big. But as with most things that make total sense from the perspective of individuals, these associations are entirely false when applied to the universe at scale. 

If you want to picture the shape of a reality, imagine instead a tree…

Worlds do not come into being all at once, after all, they accrue slowly. They grow from the unformed protomatter undergirding reality like shoots from spontaneously generated seeds, rising up into their newly created space over their newly instantiated time. They wind their way upward, complexity built atop simplicity, detail atop foundation. From the simplest base atoms, to the vaulted heights of the heavens themselves. 

And like all trees, when they fall, it is the top that hits the ground last…  
***

Gremory had been in the Domain a long time by this point, but not so long that she would fail to recognize another of her world when she saw one.

It was a rare event in her home reality, though not entirely unheard of, for an angel to fall into one’s lap. Besides, it took a lot to render Gremory unsteady; she had not come by the title of seducer of women without being a little prepared for the vicissitudes of life to come at her fast. Demon or no, a disgruntled husband required some kind of a response, every time.

Sometimes in the Domain, holes will open up in the fabric of the world, depositing newcomers into their midst before closing back up. It came with the territory of being a foundational, forgotten world amid the hierarchy of realities that composed the cosmos. When Lailah, angel of fertility, fell out of her own world and into the Domain, she was recognized almost immediately; a rare thing indeed in these parts. 

All enter the Domain alone, and for the most part, how long they stay that way is up to them… but not Lailah.

Gremory had made her home atop the floating plateau of an area known to the locals as Notia, though not a one of them were old enough to remember why. Flat expanses of black rock, each as wide across as a small town yet thin as a china plate, made leisurely rotations in place above an otherwise unremarkable field, forming a loose conglomeration of levitating stone that could not be moved by any force yet applied to them. Even falling from a great height, the obsidian planes of Notia were there to catch Lailah before she came to earth. 

Much of Notia’s civilization consisted of free floating aviaries, specialized to the flying species that had colonized the plates mostly by dint of it being easily accessible real estate that few others could get to. Walls of striated netting, vertical perches for a cadre of batfolk and tengu that had taken up residence there, loomed over the edge of Gremory’s plate, high enough to catch the falling angel as she arced through the air. She hit the netting hard, chain links jangling together, a ripple spreading from the point of impact. Now rolling down the side, Lailah continued her descent, gripping at handholds one after the other to slow herself until, finally, she came to earth.

She did not do so alone. Gremory, from her throne in the center of the place, had dispatched a trio of her flitting, airborne entourage to investigate the falling newcomer at the outskirts. Two were fairies, tiny things barely as tall as an index finger that were surrounded at all times by a ball of inner light, the last a gryphon vixen with deep red wings. They arrived just as Lailah fell to the ground, encircling her cautiously but without outright aggression. 

‘Easy now,’ one of the fairies said, once the angel had recovered enough to get a look at where she was. ‘You’re the last of your kind, it’d be bad for you to do something stupid and damage yourself.’

Restraining magic leapt from tiny fairy fingertips, attaching itself to the angel where she had fallen, and it was thus that Lailah, angel of fertility, was taken to meet Gremory, demon of feminine seduction…  
***

Gremory’s home was, in truth, more a brothel than an actual abode, a pleasure garden for all manner of winged women that had, over time, grown from a single building in the middle of the plate to, ultimately, the entire plate itself. Perhaps at one point the city of Notia had objected to one of their central planar centers becoming a den of iniquity like this, but Gremory had a certain set of skills, and all of the city’s higher ups had female loved ones who could be, not to put too fine a point on it, tempted into a demon’s bed.

A large stone arch demarcated the edges of Gremory’s domain, and Lailah was led through it on her on her way to meet the demon in question. Stepping over the threshold was like walking into a whole other world, sounds and sights and scents rushing to greet the newcomer the very second her feet stepped over. Feminine voices cooing in hushed, hot tones, the curves of interesting bodies thoroughly interested in something else, a consistent perfume to the air that was sweet, but never overwhelming. 

The fairies led the way, their gryphon muscle having winged away the moment it became clear that Lailah posed no threat, and their pace left no time for the angel to immerse herself in the thoroughly pleasant sensations all around her. She was led past groups of lounging, winged women in various states of undress, talking, bathing, in flight. Flocks of harpies, their feathers shimmering in the sun, swooped and dove overhead, their laughter filling the skies as Lailah passed under them.

The angel had no idea where she was, what had happened to the world she had left to get here, but at least the people that were here were enjoying themselves.

‘Come on,’ one of the fairies grunted, the sound too high to be intimidating. She jerked on the chain of energy that connected her to Lailah, causing the angel to stumble and keep walking. ‘Boss’ gotta figure out what to do with you before you get too comfy.’

The boss, such as Gremory could be called that in a place as large and complex as Notia, was hidden away in her own private corner of the plate, the building she had taken residence within actually a bakery. The scent of fresh bread, garnished with alien spices or fruits, was a pleasant kind of cloying, washing out from the open door in a warm rush. Other fairies flitted to and fro within, these ones creatures of fire that flew in and out of the ovens without hesitation, wings of smoke billowing out behind them as they tended the bread. 

And sitting in the midst of it all, looking extremely out of place in her skimpy, fishnet body-stocking of an outfit, sat the boss herself, a smile on her face and a cadre of women fawning over her every move. She was deep in conversation when Lailah arrived, but it only took one look at the angel for the boss to switch her attentions.

There was a moment of silence, where the boss demon’s eyes first widened, then narrowed, the motions distinct and emblematic of their own individual emotions. Brushing off the clinging hands of her retinue, she stood, in the process only coming up to Lailah’s chest. She approached the chained angel with head held high and wings defiantly outstretched. 

‘What,’ she said slowly, fangy teeth bared. Demons do not know every angel of their world’s heaven, but there was a certain scent that lingered, a material signature that was the same whether one was a denizen of the Upper or Lower realms. ‘Was the name of your heaven, angel? Because I think I know you.’

‘The Islands of the Saved,’ Lailah replied, a pang of sadness in her voice; it was extremely likely she would never get to see them again now, that they were… just gone. There were too many people here whose soul signatures she could not identify for this to not be some kind of castaway world. ‘But you’re…’

‘Gremory, of the marriage bed and the virgin’s secrets. Demon of seduction in the world in which you were Lailah of the twinned embrace, the angel of fertility.’ The demoness frowned. ‘We’ve never met but our domains of influence were alike. You really did land in the best possible place, in my backyard…’

‘What are you-’

‘You’re about to get all arch, tell me that angels and demons are in no way alike, I get that,’ Gremory waved one clawed hand, dismissing the thought before Lailah could even get through expressing it. ‘But you’re not at home anymore, Uptown Girl. You’re down here in the Domain, where all the really lucky people of all stripes get to come and have their illusions of having a place or a purpose wiped away. Home’s dead and gone, Lailah Double-Touch, and you can’t tell me you don’t feel the pull of this place now…’

Reaching out, the demon gripped the spellwork chains that held the angel and pulled, drawing her down to eye height. A crimson gaze met those azure eyes.

‘I’m a demon of seduction, you’re an angel of fertility. Surrounded by young, nubile women, we’re both empowered. Feel it in your bones, Lailah.’

She could feel it, had been feeling it gathering in her since the moment she had entered this place, though a mix of confusion and growing grief had masked it until now. Not an entirely alien feeling, it was in fact the sort of thing that Lailah had felt many times when she visited her plane’s Midworld, bringing divinely inspired motherhood to deserving women. A sensation like lightning in her blood, miracles boiling up through her every cell, an incipience she did not truly understand… a lust for the marrow of life itself that roiled and never came to rest. 

Even divorced from her heaven, bereft of her gods and separated from her paradise, Lailah still felt her angelic calling. Far from divinity born, it seemed now to be an inherent part of her, something she carried with her unto this new world, whatever it was, and the fact that it hadn’t died with her homeworld, that she was not here bereft of her very nature, seemed more chilling to Lailah now than even the prospect of losing it. 

Worse still, she could feel her godsblood calling out to Gremory, finding a kindred spirit in the little demoness, some other thing that drew its mana from the bevy of ladies that had been collected here…

Her whole body heating up, painted lips parted and panting, the essence of fertility flowing through her in a bright tide that carried with it, in a moment like this, a deep sadness, Lailah almost sobbed. But the question that came to her was something else, and it demanded to be answered. Curiosity had to be present in the nature of an angel that wanted people to breed, after all; humans were mysterious people when they thought with the brains between their legs.

‘Why is this place a bakery, though?’ She asked, finally gathering the wherewithal to tear her gaze from Gremory and look around the many ranks of ovens and their attendants of flame. Raw dough was constantly being kneaded, pressed, basted or treated, the cozy nature of the scent and the wafting heat presenting a fundamental mismatch when compared to the lounging, barely clothed women everywhere else. 

‘Because I like bread,’ Gremory crossed her arms, raising her chin in snooty defiance. ‘I’m not just about seduction, you know. Besides, you and I might be immortal but my people still need feeding and taking care of, no matter how they spend the rest of their day.’

‘”Your people?”’ Lailah cocked her head to one side. ‘You’re a demon! You don’t have people, you have victims! Temptations!’

‘Meaning you’ve only had salvations, I suppose. Again, you’re not in the Isles anymore,’ Gremory sighed. ‘Whatever we were made for back home, it doesn’t… Look, it’ll be easier if I just show you, okay? Come inside, fairies, let the lady go, and go and get me the, uh, the thing, alright? The thing, glowballs, I want to be able to sit next to the woman without leaving a crater behind.’

Having literally nowhere else to go, and with the whisperings of her old power practically clinging to the walls of the building itself, Lailah followed when Gremory turned and stepped deeper into her bakery. Flame fairy traffic corrected itself around her path, the only one of the two tall enough to actually disrupt their natural flight paths; clusters of gryphon vixens, dragonnewts, winged creatures of all types looked at her with some curiosity as she passed them by. 

At the center of the bakery was a repository for the fresh product, racks lining the walls and filled with pastries. Other kinds of fairies made their home here, sugar sprites who attended the finer details of frosting, cream-filling and otherwise confecting the things on the shelves. The scent of fresh bread hung heavy in the air, counterpointed by a myriad of sweeter smells, their composition constantly in flux depending on what the sprites were summoning now. 

There was neither a stitch of clothing nor an unhappy expression to be seen anywhere.

‘It’s not the most private room in the place, but certainly the most pleasant to be in,’ Gremory took the subjugation leash from her flitting fairy assistants, made sure that Lailah could see it before she proffered the business end to the angel. For a demon she seemed to be a remarkably straight shooter. ‘Put it on. We’re like dynamite and a stack of lit matches otherwise.’

‘We don’t know each other like that,’ Lailah shook her head, knowing all too well what that thing could do. 

‘But we could,’ Gremory shot the angel a crooked smile, fangs showing at the corners of her mouth. She was a small woman, unassuming and unconcerned with her largely bared self, but in that moment it became clear there was so much more to her than just that. Her horns, curled up against the messy crimson bob of her hair, shone black like the depths of night, the very core of ancient forests bristling with watching eyes and hungry teeth. Her own eyes were a lurid yellow, pupils serpentine and slitted, their knifelike narrowness entrancing, demanding all of Lailah’s attention.

She could sink into that gaze, like so very many mortal women had before her…

‘Old world’s dead, angel,’ Gremory’s voice was a silken lilt, something strange and heavy hiding beenath that softness. ‘Long live the new world. Ain’t no Isles of the Saved anymore, no Continent of the Tempted either. The human world we worked in is gone. What’s left is this: no salvation, no punishment, just life.’

Her short thighs were thick and curvy, tanned skin rubbing against itself as she walked, inviting all who were present to imagine them wrapped around their waists, rubbing endlessly against them. Gremory strode a loose circle around Lailah, her tail trailing behind her, a lazy black ribbon long enough to remain in the angel’s sight even when the demoness it belonged to was behind her. Her wings, flapping, beat the hot bakery air into Lailah’s body with rhythmic certainty, heating her up second by second.

‘You can’t… use your magic… on me,’ Lailah’s generous chest rose and fell, laboring for breaths that only came now as heavy panting, her cheeks burning hot.

‘You’d be surprised how many of the old rules don’t apply here, Uptown Girl,’ Gremory smirked. ‘You don’t have divine protection here, and I’ve got no infernal motivation to cause you trouble. Relax, let me in. Put on the collar, angel, and then we can talk like equals.’

‘I n-need a subjugation collar to be equal to you?’ Lailah mewled. 

‘You’ve spent a lot of time at the top of the world, Lailah,’ Gremory continued her circuit around the angel, fighting off a more severe expression that might have inhibited her charms. ‘One of us has to wear it so we don’t explode the joint, and I think of the two of us you’ve had it easier so far.’

Sliding dangerously close, Gremory pressed her lips to Lailah’s ear. The angel gasped, fearful, actually feeling their natures begin to repel one another, black static earthing itself in her soul; but she could not bear to pull away, not from that mischievous mouth and that small, sweet body. In that moment she would have risked oblivion indeed to stay close to the short demon.

‘Put it on, Lailah of motherhood.’ Gremory said, her tone hot and wanting, just as desperate then as Lailah felt. ‘Then we can find out what sorts of things I can get you to take off…’

The angel whimpered. Her hand had come up without her knowledge, fingertips resting atop the golden metal of the collar, just a second from taking it up. She still had three other hands unoccupied, and each of them clenched into a fist, long nails digging into her palms in an effort, weakening by the moment, to avoid reaching out and touching Gremory before they were prepared. 

Fighting against her own impulses, she carefully lifted the subjugation collar from Gremory’s palm and held it, turning over the intricate artifact in her hand. Back on the Isles it was commonly understood that only a few such devices had ever existed at one time, things meant to, for one purpose or another, bridge the gap between the angelic and the demonic. She had been content at the time to never be anywhere near one, their perversions of the natural order too close to a mortal sin for Lailah’s comfort. 

But the Isles were gone now, and it seemed the only ones that had escaped the destruction were herself and the little demon currently licking her lips as she watched Lailah agonize. What a pity it would be, that the only two who could even remember what their home was like were doomed to remain at arm’s length for all eternity. Barred from getting close, from speaking candidly.

… Barred from t-touching…

Eying Gremory with mounting hunger, Lailah lifted the collar to her neck and clipped it into place. The inner workings of the lock vibrated lightly against her throat as they closed, the leash extending from the centerpiece in a growing spill of light, making itself inch by inch until the control bauble at the end formed and offered itself to the demoness. 

Gremory wrapped her claws around the golden ball, not hesitating even a moment to bring herself into the connection it represented between the two of them. Their selves flowed through the leash toward the center, commingling there for the first time without the danger of violent repulsion. Lailah gasped, some small but important part of herself bowing its head to the demon.

‘Good girl,’ she was all fangs and prurient expressions, watching with no small delight as Lailah gasped at the appellation. The angel sank to her knees, and no part of that seemed wrong or strange to either party now, but instead a natural extension of what the collar and leash they held had made they two. 

For the first time they touched, Gremory laying a testing palm on Lailah’s shoulder. Neither could conceal their nerves in that moment, both tensing up at the point of contact, before quickly relaxing; there was always the possibility of things going wrong, after all.

Now that it hadn’t, though, Gremory trailed that hand up the angel’s shoulder, luxuriating in the smooth darkness of her skin, up the graceful curve of her neck and toward her cheek. Her thumb stroked against Lailah’s white painted lips, and the angel, operating on some logic below conscious thought, obediently opened her mouth and admitted the probing claw inside. 

The Isles of the Saved had not been as pure as many had assumed. Lailah knew plenty about sexual impulses beyond procreation; she moaned now, her tongue pressing up against Gremory’s thumb. The sharp point of her nail proved an especial draw, something she lavished with extra attention.

‘Welcome to the new home, better than the old home, angel,’ the demon said, her voice thick with fascination. ‘We’ve got stuff you’ve never felt before in your little paradise. Come and see.’

She crawled. It felt natural to do so, though both she and Gremory knew that it was the collar doing that. Four palms flat to the ground, Lailah allowed herself to be led inward, her mouth still full of demonic fingers; Gremory let her hand trail behind her, extending out so that the angel could continue sucking her thumb. While they were connected by the leash, neither could imagine a world in which this arrangement did not continue. 

Gremory’s skin carried with it a sort of venomous, addictive heat, the resonant echoes of the place in which she had been forged. It swept into Lailah like a fever, leaving her unable to think straight, her mind always returning to the sway of the demon’s generous ass, ponderances of how her tail might feel inside her… 

There were no places that were more private than any other here, just configurations of rooms that held more or less working fairies and lounging women than others. Lailah could hardly bring herself to be concerned about crawling, leashed, through such rooms though, because Gremory seemed unconcerned entirely. There came a point, during an infinite lifespan dedicated to seduction, that the prospect of someone else seeing you in the middle of something untoward began to lose its ability to embarrass. 

Sex was something written into Gremory’s very body, a thousand thousand sleepless nights in the beds of unfaithful women etched on her short curves; merely being near her made one wanton, slide naturally into a part of oneself that matched the vibes she was giving off. 

One corner of the big confectioner’s room contained a bed, lacking in sheets but replete with a mountain of pillows. It was not a place for sleeping, that much was obvious just by looking; as Gremory led Lailah toward it, a good number of the fairies that flitted by glanced longingly at the thing itself, jealousy flashing on finely wrought, tiny features. 

‘Maybe later,’ Gremory shot the angel a fangy grin over her shoulder, catching her staring. ‘I want you to myself the first time, though. Not that I’ve ever prevented my bakers from watching, of course. It gives ‘em ideas. I like ideas.’

The bed frame was tall, and Gremory was short; sitting on the edge of the mattress put her roughly in line with Lailah while the latter knelt. The leash dangled between them, enough slack in the white ribbon to have it touch the floor. For a moment they simply stayed like this, the angel’s legs folded beneath her, her body inclined forward with an eagerness she still wouldn’t fully allow herself to feel. The demon, by contrast, leaned back, her legs spread expansively, relaxed from top to bottom. 

On a bed beside a leashed and blushing woman? Gremory was in her element.

‘You were easier to get here than I thought you would be,’ she wore a smile that begged to be slapped off of her face, yet was secure in the fact that there was nobody around in a position to do so. ‘Which just means I’m better at what I do than I was thinking…’

Tugging hard enough for the leash to grow taut, to drag Lailah inward, the demoness caught one of the angel’s hands as they wheeled past for balance and placed it, gently, on top of one soft, warm thigh. An instant reflex, impossible to disobey, made Lailah grip down with her fingers, stroking gently against the stockinged skin. The curves there transfixed the angel, such that she barely noticed when a second hand was guided around to rest on Gremory’s ass. 

Lailah’s lips parted, a whimper of fascination escaping from between them. A third hand, positioned to the rear of her shoulders, was lifted to the demoness’ mouth, where a lightly forked tongue slipped forth to lick and coil over the skin of Lailah’s fingers. Immediately, this was the only thing in Lailah’s entire world.

‘Want me to take off my pasties before I… occupy your other hand?’ Gremory trailed her fingers over one small breast, running her nail around the edges of one of the leather diamonds covering her nipples. She bounced in place, grinning appreciatively as Lailah squeezed her ass, nodding furiously, hungrily. 

Wordlessly, the demon hooked that nail beneath the rim of the pasty, peeled it off with a teasing slowness that revealed the pale brown point of her nipple, standing hard against the light curvature of her breast. Arching her back, Gremory slid it between Lailah’s fingers, gasping at the eagerness with which the angel gripped it, rolling the sensitive nub between the pads of her thumb and forefinger. 

She writhed in Lailah’s hands, a precious treasure being explored by probing digits, some sinful cursed gemstone with her facets laid bare. The angel molested her freely, groping and lustful, yet it was Gremory that held the leash, Gremory who was in control. 

Even so, the demon of seduction was not prepared to be dragged forward by the nipple she had just offered Lailah, nor for angelic lips to descend upon her other breast, tearing the pasty aside with impatient teeth. When her mouth fastened against her other breast, so flat it seemed that Lailah could fit it all inside, Gremory whooped with surprise, gripping her to her chest by the hair. 

‘You were not hard at all to crack!’ She laughed, the sound collapsing into moaning all too quickly. 

‘You’re a seducer of women,’ Lailah murmured, her mouth full of demonic tit. ‘I’m a woman. You’ve seduced me. Surely you do more than gloat once you’ve done that.’

The fact was that Lailah had all the leverage over Gremory in a physical sense; even leaving aside that she was a great deal taller than the little demon, she possessed fully two additional hands. It was simplicity itself for her to pull Gremory onto the bed, holding her beneath the great brown expanse of her angelic bust, pressing that pillowy weight against her. But the demon squirmed in her grip, unwilling to be carried around the way she had been doing to Lailah. 

Gremory was the one who led others to bed, she was not tossed there, least of all by her latest Upper conquest…

Holding tight to the end of Lailah’s leash, Gremory pulled tight, the collar’s edges digging into the angel’s neck. All at once the multi-armed woman froze, her eyes wide and her breath catching in her throat. To move on without permission was literally unthinkable, her will held at the edge of Gremory’s imprimatur, subjugated to her mind by the length of magical metal around her throat. 

‘I can do a whole lot more than gloat,’ her voice hoarse and throbbing, Gremory turned her red gaze to Lailah’s blue once more, seeing in it now an addled woman in territory that, while not uncharted, was certainly unfamiliar. It was probable she had never met a demon before, knew nothing at all of the potent narcotic that was the aura of a succubus. Gremory did not, as a rule, dislike handsy, overeager women, but there were finer points to being on Grem’s leash that Lailah had yet to understand. 

And she would have to be made to.

One of Lailah’s hands had made its way between Gremory’s legs in her momentary loss of control, and it was to this that the demoness went now. Placing her own hand over top of the angel’s, she guided those slender fingers to curl, to take a better hold on the night-black fabric of her panties. 

They were both strong enough, easily. The undergarment ripped away with no effort at all. 

Though Lailah had begun to dip her head down before Gremory had even started to reposition, the demon did so anyway, pushing her angelic new friend down with the flat of one palm; even if they both already knew where this was going, it was important to establish who was in command of it all. Her fingers wove into the pristine, golden locks of Lailah’s hair, drawing her lovely face down between her legs. 

‘Let me show you what typically happens after I gloat…’

The thing about Gremory was that, when she turned on the charm, there were certain parts of her body that gained nothing less than an event horizon, beyond which no allosexual person of compatible orientation could tear themselves away. It was an attraction field that Lailah now fell into, a boundary of heat and scent and intoxicating sight, that commanded the attention and demanded that one draw closer. Lailah licked her lips as she approached, soft thighs on either side of her face drawing her further in, if the glistening crimson lips of the demonic pussy ahead weren’t enough to do so. 

It was she that moaned first when her mouth finally made contact, despite touching Gremory’s clit with the literal tongue of an angel. Temptation always felt good, but after an eternity of abstention and with a whole new world of possibilities spread out before her, the sins Gremory presented beat the divine.

For example, she knew that the nerves in her tongue and lips were not set up to feel the kind of pleasure that… other nerves in her body were capable of. The gods that had authored her existence made no secret of her makeup, the angels understood their own construction very well; so when her tongue lit up with sensual pleasure from tip to base the second she made contact between Gremory’s legs, Lailah discovered that her divinely wrought body still held surprises in store. 

She groaned, pressed into the sensations that washed into her mouth in a bright, wine-like tide almost instinctively. Her tongue plunged inside the demon, coated in moments with the molten heat of her arousal. It was near to unbearable, but her newly transformed, downright clitoral tongue continued to drive deeper, until her lips held tight to Gremory’s labia, wanting more. Raw sex impulses filled her mouth, radiated along her gums, her lips, pooling in her lower jaw like a hot syrup. 

Heedlessly, her eyes drifting closed, Lailah fucked her mouth on Gremory’s cunt.

‘Now that right there is the kind of worship I can get behind…’ Tipping her head back and biting her lip, luxuriating in the licking, sucking angel as an audience of interested fairies gathered overhead. One hand held the ball at the end of the leash, the other stroked encouragingly along the line of Lailah’s halo. The feeling of it under her fingers rang through her mind, a hymnal sound that resonated with Lailah’s lustful, dreamy sounds from below. Her oral attentions were literally divine, a shaft of sunlight driving deep inside her and seeking out her every sensitivity. 

Gremory did her best thinking while getting fucked. It made sense, this was literally the thing she had been forged for, her body itself a series of spells inciting desire, her voice a chant honoring lust. Having a laboring head between her legs and a watching audience? She was in her element! 

So in the back of her mind a plan began to form, a way to turn this happenstance occurrence into something positive. A crooked smile on her face and a particular, pre-orgasmic tension in her thighs, Gremory set her gaze to the empty air just above Lailah’s laboring head, aiming for the point at which the subjugation collar would record and present her memories. She spoke, to nobody in particular.

‘Seen enough, Zenunim?’ She murmured, hazarding a rather safe guess as to whom, precisely, would be using the collar for that purpose down the line. ‘No threat here, just a- nhh! A very good mouth…’

Dragging Lailah upward by her halo, the demoness made sure to give her audience a good look at the angels thoroughly fucked face, tongue hanging out and breath coming in wanton pants. Her eyes still on the middle distance, Gremory pulled Lailah’s tongue into her mouth, kissing the angel deeply and enjoying the sensation of her squirming; right now her entire oral cavity from front teeth to uvula would be little more than a mass of pleasure nerves, bathed in demonic arousal as they had been. 

Mouths can orgasm, they just need to be tweaked a little first. Under the right circumstances, even a kiss would do it.

Across the hours and miles that separated them, through the memories of that climactic pleasure that still lingered in Lailah’s soul, Gremory was indeed being watched, just as she had predicted…  
***

Back in the present day, Eisheth stumbled back, blinking away the remembrances, her eyes adjusting to the reality before her. She had let go of the collar, but that didn’t matter now; Lailah knelt exactly where she had been left, blushing furiously. In the remnants of memory still playing out in Eisheth’s mind’s eye, the fairies were beginning to descend upon the angel, motes of light that kissed and licked and fingered. 

It was an addictive watch…

‘Yep, that is…’ Eisheth paused, swallowed. ‘That is one subby little angel, there. She’s clean, Tyriah. New arrival, not an invader.’

‘Well that is good to know,’ Tyriah demurred from her seat, cold but defrosting as the news settled in; it was hard for her, of all people, to begrudge someone newly fallen into her world. She had taken part in the formation of the Domain specifically to take care of folk like that, after all. 

‘Wanna see her angel holes?’ Gremory smiled, flitting over to take the leash from her demonic cohort. ‘They’re cute, and believe me, nothing tastes sweeter.’

‘Gremory!’ Lailah flushed red, hid her eyes. Despite her embarrassment, there was no mistaking the way her lovely brown thighs squeezed together. Even with the collar there was nothing keeping her on her knees as the cadre of demon women began to gather closer. 

For a literal angel, used to descending on high before trembling humans, it must feel novel indeed to be the hapless, powerless one for once. 

‘Oh, all right, she can stay,’ Tyriah rolled her eyes, leading Eisheth and Gremory to squeal and clap. Her hooves clacked on the stone as she drew closer. ‘Let’s see what she can do…’

And in the depths of the shadows at the far end of the Demon Dorm, far stranger shapes began to pay attention. Eyes that had been watching with veiled interest from the offing began to observe closer, more obviously. With a roll of thunder and a sigh like the crackling of the hottest fire, a figure detached itself from the darkness and began to walk toward the angel and her new playmates. 

Kulshedra, demon of storms, World-Ender, the-dragon-of-the-flames, had been here all along. 

Now was simply the first time she allowed herself to be seen by the ancient things she shared the chamber with.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was funded by my backers on Patreon. If you'd like to see more, get early access, and vote on what I write next, check me out via my profile!


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